


Days of Despair

by HaneGaNai (nezstorm)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Near Death Experiences, One-Sided Relationship, POV First Person, Sex, Time Manipulation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/pseuds/HaneGaNai
Summary: Ichigo couldn't take it anymore. The pain, the quilt – it was all too much for him. And then one day something changed and though he still looked the same there was something off about him. As if someone else took control over his body. Had Ichigo really lost the battle for control with his Hollow? Or was there another reason why it was Hichigo now who lived his life for him?





	Days of Despair

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting old works I deleted from FF.net last year.
> 
> Tread carefully. And do let me know if I missed a tag.

"Hollows can't love," you said in that stern tone of voice that allowed no objections. You didn't want me to prove you wrong, so desperate you were on being right with that blunt statement of yours.

I decided to keep you on the bright side. That one, single time I would grant your wish. I didn't feel like being rained on that day.

Little favors I might say.

But I wouldn't let it slide that easily.

"What is this thin' you call love, then?" I asked out of the blue throwing you off. "Don't I know it even just a bit? I do love fightin', King. Kickin' yer ass five ways from Sunday. Seein' ya all bloody and torn, shattered on the ground. I love that sight."

"That's just a figure of speech, asshole. When you say that you love it, it means that you get excited because of it; it's because of the adrenalin pumping in your veins. That's not what I'm talking about." You scowled. "Love is… well…" And you tripped over your own words. Stuttered and blushed when they didn't come out right, scowled even harder when you learned that in the end, you didn't know how to explain it to me – someone who, according to you, didn't know shit about feelings other than hate.

If I knew how to hate I knew other emotions as well, my silly King.

"Ain't love one of those things you can't explain wit' words, 'cause there ain't words fer it? Show me, maybe." I teased with a smirk on my face.

But that too appeared to be too difficult of a task and you just shied away practically running, leaving me alone in your Inner World. And even if it was meant to be just a joke, I wouldn't actually mind you showing me what love was about. Not a single bit.

Hollows can't love. That's what you said, thinking I have no clue whatsoever about feelings. But you forgot something,  _ Aibou _ . I am no ordinary Hollow. I wasn't born from a grieving soul that lost its heart to despair or one that spent too much time in the Real World. I have never been anybody else before moving into your Inner World.

Can't you see? I am you – your negative, a fucked up reflection. I am a part of you brought to life at the time of your near Hollowfication when you struggled to gain shinigami powers in order to save that raven midget woman.

I am a part of your soul just like old man Zangetsu is. I never lost my ability to feel like a normal Hollow does. I have never forgotten how it's like.

And though I'm the dark, the forlorn part of you and I'm led by urges you refused to surrender to, instincts you were always fighting and trying to suppress; I know about the emotions residing in human hearts. I know about them all. I know despair just as much as I know how to laugh in a madman frenzy, pumped with adrenalin, endorphins, covered in blood.

I know hate just as much as I know love.

Not showing feelings doesn't mean I don't know them. Just like knowing them doesn't make me feel obliged to show them.

I know what love is. Oh, I know it all too well. You were the one that showed me how blindingly bright it is. I experienced it every day in your Inner World when it was pouring down heavily and my soaked  _ shihakusho _ clung to my body. Every single day since that fruit-head bastard appeared in your life as a friend.

As more.

The moment you fell in love I could feel it too.

The dark clouds disappeared from the sky and a supernova of light flooded your mind. All the puddles vaporized instantly and I could barely see through the steam, not to mention the blinding rays. Warmth spread through my body – a sensation I never experienced before, a sensation that I found surprisingly nice.

But before my eyes got used to the brightness, another explosion followed.

An explosion of darkness as you realized that your feelings for him would have to stay a secret forever. Because you were both men, because he was your friend, because you thought he loved Rukia, because of a few other stupid reasons that were just a product of your mind. You never made sure if any of them were true. You just gave up without trying. You buried yourself in despair instead of fighting for it, like the emotionally unstable teen that you are.

And you dare claim that I'm emotionally retarded?

Had I ever not told you when you disappointed me? Had I ever hidden it from you when I was furious and fed up with your pansy-ass act? Had I ever kept silent when I felt like berating you? Had I held back when we fought? Had I ever failed to make fun of you?

I always gave my all. I poured my soul, your soul, into whatever it was that I was doing. I was always true to myself. Honest with you.

Why is it that we are so different while still being one?

I wanted the sun to return to your Inner World.

I tasted it for that split second and I couldn't say I didn't enjoy it. No matter how much I liked you in pain, I didn't want it to rain so much in here. Your lousy mood was contagious. And the rain clouds didn't really add charm to the whole dull landscape.

"Seriously King, why skyscrapers? You could do much better than that."

So I tried to cheer you up in a way I knew best. I tormented you twice as much as I usually did. I fought for control more often. I teased and annoyed the hell out of you, cackling in your mind every time you'd react to my words in public, because you forgot that shouting insults at me out loud might reach those miserable human beings. I made you more aware of me, constantly on your toes and always suspecting a surprise attack. I was there every waking hour; I was there when you were asleep. I even mutilated your dreams. All in order to take your mind off of him.

I fought to distract you.

I fought for you.

Then, one day, it was you who came to me.

You materialized in your Inner World after a few really nasty comments that must have gotten under your skin. That's what I assumed when I noticed your presence.

But instead of lashing out at me with your Zanpakutou drawn and ready to kill, you just stood there with eyes hidden behind your bangs.

I waited for you to make a move, to attack me, to yell at me, to say something at the very least. Cry maybe. But you didn't do any of that.

After several minutes of watching you I got tired of it and tried to break your walls. The walls that were supposed to keep me away from some of your thoughts, cherished memories and dark secrets. I used to attack them every now and then to rile you up, though I didn't really care about what you were trying to hide from me, from yourself. I knew enough without them. I understood you without them.

I attacked once more – the barrier preventing me from learning what it was that you wanted to hide from me, but before I managed to even get a glimpse of what it was, you raised your head and looked at me.

And boy, that look suited you so well.

The expression on your face was a mix of disgust, anger and resolution, the despair lurking somewhere in the background, but invisible if one didn't look for it. Was it me or you that that face was designed for I still don't know. It was clear though, that you weren't exactly happy with whatever it was you came here for.

Or maybe it was me.

But your eyes. Your eyes were dark, the usually brown spheres dulled because of all the emotions that fought inside you, clouded with feelings you thought I'd never be able to understand. Your stare bore into me, captivated me and if only you'd use your mind a bit more you'd draw your sword and pierce me through with it, because in that moment I were held in place by your gaze completely defenseless.

Oh, the pain. Pain oozed from you like blood running from a nasty wound. The moment you set your foot in here wave upon wave of your burning throes washed over the buildings, over me and all I could see was crimson and all I could feel was the familiar metallic tang.

I couldn't help but lick my lips. Delicious.

I knew you were drawing closer only because your eyes got bigger and I could see how confused you were by what you were about to do, whatever that was. And then you were so close that you flooded all my other senses.

I could feel your breath mingling with mine. I could smell you, your rich aroma that reminded me surprisingly enough of vanilla (though it makes me wonder how souls could ever smell of anything). I could feel your fingers tightening in the material of my  _ shihakusho _ as you brought us even closer. I could taste you as you mashed our mouths together and forcefully pried my lips apart.

And in that instant I understood where this was going.

All of a sudden I found myself sprawled on your bed in the Real World with you hovering above me and ravishing my mouth.

You force-materialized me, something that has never happened before and would most probably be impossible to achieve if I weren't taken by surprise. Pun not intended.

Sure, it wasn't my first time in the Real World. Materializing wasn't all that difficult when you had the reiatsu needed – and your reiatsu practically overflowed. The fun part was that when I showed up time for all the other beings, the whole wide world stopped and only the two of us remained. The two of you. As if we had the universe to ourselves.

Ah, the possibilities.

The few times I appeared in your world were when you wanted nothing more than to be left alone, when you looked for solitude. When you needed time to think things over, come to terms with yourself or burry yourself even deeper in despair. When you seemed unable to control, to hide your feelings.

Murphy's Law.

I relished in your terrified face, in your anger, in the surge of reiatsu when you instinctively reached for your badge. I liked it like that – when you let everything go, when you focused only on fighting me so I'd get back to that forsaken, dull place. When nothing other than our fight mattered.

The sound of our Zanpakutou clashing or the tearing of our  _ shihakushos _ . Your panting, groans of pain, lousy insults, cursing when I inflicted yet another wound or when I dodged yet another blow. Your scowl when I cackled like crazy. All the blood, be it mine or yours, dripping down, mingling with sweat, soaking. The fight. The sheer joy of going all out uncaring of my surroundings.

And I knew that despite all your complaining, you enjoyed it just as much.

But this here – this wasn't a fight. You haven't brought me to the Real World looking for a fight; we could've done that back there. Honestly, we could've done  _ this _ there too.

Maybe you felt safer knowing that no one would be able to interrupt us thanks to the whole time freezing thing. Maybe you wanted to bind me somehow and here you could, since it was more or less impossible to tie someone to a skyscraper. A horizontal one at that. Maybe you wanted it to be comfortable. Or maybe you were just scared of Zangetsu walking in on us (though honestly, King – if I knew, he knew as well).

I didn't know what drove you and I couldn't care less.

At that time my mind was too occupied with you to think of your reasoning.

Busy trying to regain even the slightest control over my body. Trying to free my hands from your grasp and then from my sash that you tied me up with. Trying to get my clothes to stay on me as you tore at them ripping them off. Trying to throw you off of me struggling and kicking, but not yelling.

If I weren't in the position you wanted to fuck me in, I'd be laughing my ass off impressed that the prudish little King actually dared to pull something like that off.

But I couldn't agree to this.

I had my pride, dammit! Pride! Fucked by you? Don't make me friggin' laugh! Even if you were in control, even if you were the King you had no right, no fuckin' right!

Venting out frustration? Why not let me fuck you instead? I'd make you scream so much that your voice would be hoarse for days. I'd have you all bloody and torn beneath me with your face wet from sweat, tears and cum. I'd have you writhing in pain, struggling and unwilling to the very end before you'd cum so hard you'd pass out.

I'd have you – that's the way it should be.

Why were you doing this to me?

I ceased struggling.

It wasn't like you to hurt someone intentionally even though I mocked you so much, hurt you so much, threatened everything in your life – you weren't me. So why?

Was it really me you wanted to hurt?

No. No, this wasn't about me. Once again, it wasn't about me. I was simply there. I was convenient.

I wouldn't scream, I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't beg you to stop. You knew that. You knew it deep down within your mind that my pride wouldn't let me act like a victim.

And you were right.

You didn't want to hurt me. It was yourself that you wanted in pain. You little masochist. So you wanted to lose yourself in suffering? Was it really beyond you to get a grip and keep living? Did you think that raping me would be a nice way to throw your sanity away?

Sure, if that was what you wanted I'd lend you a hand. Or body.

I let you have your way with me. It wasn't as if you were rough – no matter how much you tried to bite too hard, pinch too hard, squeeze or tug stronger than one was supposed to – and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. You couldn't bring yourself to hurt me for real.

You even prepared me, what a lousy excuse of a rapist you were. I'd laugh if I weren't so busy bucking against your fingers.

You aimed for self-destruction and I couldn't help but moan when you hit it dead-on.

It felt so wrong for you – the feelings you had for the Pineapple. It wasn't all about love anymore. You lusted for him so desperately that you couldn't keep your hands away from your dick.

You couldn't help getting hard when you brushed against each other squeezed tightly sitting by the low table at that perverted blonde's shop making you unable to focus on the whole talk about war, about the god-wannabe prick and his merry army.

Or when the two of you sparred and he lost pieces of clothing showing off patches of tanned, inked skin you so longed to touch. When he was panting heavily, sprawled on the ground too exhausted to move, simply begging you to launch yourself at him, to twist your fingers in that red mane and tug harshly as he'd howl into your mouth. As he'd grind against your body, clinging to you desperately holding onto your tattered resolve.

Or in the healing hot spring when you couldn't tear your eyes off of him, off the droplets of water streaming down his body in little rivulets followed by your hungry gaze until they reached the surface. More than once you almost drowned yourself to hide the blush and the lustful gaze, to avoid difficult questions.

You moaned his name into your pillow night after night as your release washed over you spilling all over your hand, your bed sheets, your sanity, before drowning in self-hatred. You thought for it to be disgusting to do that while imagining being fucked into the mattress by your best friend, fucking him against the nearest wall and yet you couldn't stop yourself.

It was a vicious circle that you were unable to break.

You were so pathetic.

And then one day you thought of using me.

You needed someone to hate you, to despise you with all his might. But you couldn't hurt your friends; they were too precious to you. You couldn't bear making them suffer. You were there to protect them – or so you wanted to think. You couldn't hurt your foes either. No matter what, your honor, your pride wouldn't let you.

That's why you chose to inflict pain upon yourself, upon the dark part of you. Upon me.

You were wounded, both by the love you felt for him and by me – the one that never let any opportunity to mock you pass. By your own heart and soul. You felt beleaguered because we left you nowhere to run trapping you between us. With us. And you felt as if there was nothing you could do.

All my efforts for nothing.

Why couldn't you understand that all I ever did was for you? To make you stronger when you needed power to face your opponents, to help you find your resolve, to get the old you back, to force you to live your life as normally as a shinigami substitute could.

Why couldn't you understand that there was more to life than pain, that life wasn't all about him and the secrets you wanted to keep?

I knew you felt overwhelmed, that you were drowning, that it all ate you from inside, but why the hell couldn't you hold onto what I was offering you – the chance to focus on our fight, on me?

Did you hate me that much?

Did you hate yourself that much?

Is that why you came to me when it became too much for you to handle?

So here I was, spread on your among the rumpled bed sheets trying to catch my breath, covered in sweat and cum with my legs still draped over your shoulders. I looked down and tried to catch your gaze wondering what expression you were wearing, but you wouldn't meet my eyes.

"King."

You pulled out of me and let my legs fall to the side. I could feel your hot fluids and my blood dripping from me.

"Oi."

You slumped over my body and hid your face in the crook of my neck and then I felt warm liquid on my skin. The tear paths burnt. Drop by drop they scorched and I was sure they'll leave scars.

You wrapped your arms around me and clung to me for dear life. I lay there perfectly still with my arms still above my head and tied to the headboard as you cried your heart out wave after wave of uncontrolled sobs and tremors running through your body.

But which one of us it was that you were holding?

"King."

Was that what you wanted? Mind numbing bliss followed by crushing guilt? Did you really think that crushing yourself would help you get over this? That you could be glued back again after ripping yourself to shreds?

I felt your lips move against my skin. Ah, here it comes. You were going to justify yourself, say that you're sorry, that it won't happen ever again. But we both knew it would.

"I'm sorr-"

"Finished takin' a breather?" I interrupted you.

If this was what you wanted, if this was what you thought that you needed I'd help you.

"Huh?"

You rose from your spot and looked at me for the first time since we came to your world. Your eyes were red, tears still streaming down your cheeks. That face suited you so well, King, so well I could feel my cock hardening against your stomach.

I can bet you could feel it too.

"'Cause I'm ready fer round two." I said with a smirk moving my hips suggestively.

Let's shatter you to pieces and bring the sun back.

At first you refused to do it again or even think about what you did. What we did. You were trying to sort things out, cursing yourself, wondering why the hell did you do that to me. You thought of it as rape and you were blaming yourself for hurting me. That's so typically you. Haven't you noticed how I joined in the fun moaning in pleasure or used my legs to pull you closer, to get you in deeper and faster? I really enjoyed that so called rape, King. But it wasn't as if it were your skills that made me arch my back and push back against you, it was the thought of how deeply it hurt you, the vision of how torn you'll be after this is all over. It was the mixture of pleasure-pain on your face that brought me over the edge.

And if that wasn't a clue what about my comment when you were covering me in tears and snot crying your little heart out on my shoulder?

You're too focused on yourself. You weren't the only one participating in the act so get over it and let's go another round. We're trying to destroy you, remember? Our goal is to hurt you severely, to break you so get your ass back to work.

You avoided me for two weeks straight ignoring my taunting, cutting off the sultry whisper in your mind. You tried to learn how to control your reiatsu to keep me from coming to the Real World, but I managed to escape a few times when you weren't paying me enough attention.

I walked around your classroom laughing at the horrified look on your face when you noticed I slipped through the walls that were supposed to hold me back and that I'm wandering freely between desks poking here and there at your classmates that were frozen in time. I wish I could show you how red your face became when I slipped my hand under that crazily-in-love big-breasted friend's of yours shirt and squeezed. Ha, I thought you'd explode! But you only got mad and sent me back with the help of your anger, though you couldn't look her in the eyes for quite some time.

I moved towards him in the hot water of the healing spring aware of how fixed your gaze was on me. You watched how I circled around him, tangled my fingers in his blood-red hair and tugged, how I leaned in wrapping myself around him and let my tongue trace his neck, his inked chest and stomach and lover until I was gone under the surface too long for your comfort. I would emerge slowly my eyes focused on you as my hand lingered under water and moved slowly up and down and I watched as you sank your teeth in your lower lip, how you gripped at the stones surrounding the spring in a white knuckled grip. I held his cock and told you how big it was, how wonderful it felt in my hand, how it fitted in and how it would fit in yours as well since I was your copy, how it would fit in you and what pleasure it could bring, all words muffled against his neck. You were out of the water before he even noticed how hard he was.

I stood behind your back when you studied and whispered into your ear, my hot breath washing over your skin, my form so close that I could feel your warmth, but not close enough to make contact. I told you about the things you could do to me, things I could do for you. I told you how much you needed this, how you couldn't go on for too long and would come to me begging soon enough, that there was no use fighting it. I told you stories about my skilled fingers, my hot mouth and my eager tongue, about biting and scratching and fire and I knew it affected you – you couldn't hide it from me. The hitch in your breath, the stiffness of your body, avoiding unnecessary moves, the obvious bulge in your pants that made your mind, your heart break painfully every time.

I seduced you, drove you mad with my words, had you delirious without even grazing your skin and soon enough you gave in.


End file.
